Ranunculus
by chquine-harvinellisse
Summary: Shock of white, and blood, and nightly activities make her that radiant to him.


**I do not own League of Legends.**

**This fanfic is inspired by Civil Wars' cover of the song "Between the Bars".**

**Beware: this is an unconventional pairing that doesn't even have hints... I just found the pairing to be compatible because after musing about seeing a fic where Darius is paired with Sejuani, their standards for strength actually kinda compliment one another...**

**I hope you enjoy! =D**

* * *

She is different.

Women of Demacia are slender, graceful and have faces to match their grandiose titles.

Women of Noxus are deceptive, deadly and well-versed in the arts of combat and trickery.

Women of Ionia are disciplined, collected and adhere to whatever beliefs they stand for.

She is of the Freljord, a place where women are assorted: they can have the finesse of Demacians, or the deadliness of Noxians or the pure untainted discipline of the Ionians.

She is of the second one. A figure of strength hiding within the beautiful curves of an Albino woman. He will not admit it, given his alpha male complex and his proud personality, but she has passed his standards; his standards that he didn't know existed. He didn't even think of ever looking at the feminine gender, something that his superior, Jericho Swain, found incredulous.

_"You will find someone who will strike you as odd and oh, you will cherish her...__" _he would often say.

Not even his respect for the crippled man made him listen to those words. He passed them off as drivel and delusions of an old man regarding an untimely romance. But now, he is eating all the ridicule he has thrown into the old man's claims.

He cherishes her, more than anything and only madness would permit him to see otherwise.

The fearsome Winter's Wrath and leader of the Winter's Claw tribe, Sejuani, shares his bed in the early hours of the morning. Never in his life did he think that he would give regard to anyone in slumber. But she's sleeping too soundly on her belly and the way she submitted to him last night, stripped of all her armor, weapons and her beloved Bristle, brought pride to his chest and into other parts of his glorified male body.

Leaning against the headboard of his room in the dormitories of the Institute of War, Darius sighs contentedly, rubbing the stubble on his chin. No one knows about his relationship the the Freljordian figurehead. He did not tell Draven or Swain; in return she told none of her subordinates. The rooms of the dormitories are seldom used except for Champions that do not have affiliations.

_"They have no business in my activities. What happens is between you and me." _She told him once, with a face so determined that he wonders how that headstrong personality turned into one of complete surrender.

He never liked surrender, but when it comes to her, surrender is sweet and characterized by tangled blankets and bed covers and scattered clothing all around.

With a grunt, he stands up, the blanket sliding down his thighs and revealing his naked body. He glances at her and heads to the bathroom quietly. There are dark circles under his eyes and a slight pale in his face, but nonetheless, he feels years younger, like the time when he was in his prime, a young foolhardy youth who managed to live through the consequences of his rash actions.

Darius can still remember the glorious moment when he cut off the head of that Demacian figurehead from his shoulders. The blood sprayed on his hands and wet his axe. The thrill of seeing those cowardly faces of his subordinates and how the tried to overpower him with numbers, but failed as his allies found inspiration in him. That was a glorious day and it was one that brought him to the upper echelon of the military.

It brought him to the front row to watch as the man capable of rising Noxus to power takes the highest seat for himself. Those were the days that he could never forget.

Taking quick bath, he recollects the tasks that he has to accomplish for the day. He will have to return to Noxus to fulfill his duties and to take part in the strategies they will be using in their next move against Demacia. His eyes fall to the second towel hanging on his rack and he suddenly remembers how this came to be.

It was during a match at the Summoner's Rift. They faced one another at the top lane. She managed to kill him, partly because of his Summoner's incompetence and the other reason was because he studied the way she rode Bristle and swung her flail. Sejuani, he learned, was the leader of the Winter's Claw tribe, those who have strength as their only criteria.

He sought her out after that. As Swain had predicted, he found someone who struck him as odd. And by chance he spied her bringing her boar to the barn to sleep because the Institute did not allow animals inside the dormitories. He asked her why she was staying in the dorms and she replied that it was because the Avarosan spies are following her; should she return to her tribe then they will undoubtedly know its location.

_"I would lead the sheep to my den of warriors, but not tonight. They are weary from the battles they have fought."_

They talked, a bet was made and it involved the most potent of drinks in all of Valoran. Darius was supposed to retrieve a letter that he left in his room, but all thoughts were forgotten with the help of one of Gragas' best brews. It led to a gruff and awkward offer of an alliance and then to him accompanying her to her room and everything else went downhill from there.

_"I was always told that only a beast could tame me in the privacy of a bedroom..." _she remarked then.

_"A beast would have died in your hands."_ he retorted.

_"That's why they were wrong..."_

He gets out of the bathroom to find Sejuani rousing from her slumber. She's rubbing her eyes while covering herself with the blanket. "You're awake," he says gruffly.

Her reply comes with a scoff. "Anyone would be awakened by you..."

With a low chuckle, Darius sits on the bed and takes her lips into his. By now, Sejuani is used to his rough affectionate side and his obsession with kisses. She finds it strange, but she's not one to complain especially since his lips seem so experienced in its art.

"Stay," he tells her in a hoarse voice before nibbling at her bottom lip, making her take him by the nape and push him towards her lips once more. The sound of lips moving against one another and the occasional hisses emanating from Darius' throat disturbs the silent morning air. "Give me something to look forward to when those strategic meetings are done..." and with a low growl, he lifts her leg to his waist and trails his rough and calloused pointer finger on the pale surface of her knee.

Sejuani's eyes soften and she presses her chest to his. "I need to go back."

His face darkens as he continues tracing absent patterns on her knee. "Is it that time of the month again?" Every now and then Sejuani would stay in the Institute dorms to keep the other Freljord tribe leaders oblivious of her tribe's location and plans. Udyr sends her reports about the tribe through a number of methods. They have a fixed date for the tribe leader to return and supervise the training and other issues of her people. Darius always detested those times of the month.

"You can think about how to warm your bed tonight," she suggests playfully before toying with the short hairs at the base of his head.

"I wasn't asking."

"And I wasn't joking."

They stare at one another with venomous gazes. This has happened a lot of times before and Darius is half-tempted to tie her to his bed. But he would not use force on her especially since he has other ways to persuade this beautiful Albino woman. He gives up first, his only moments of submission and retreat.

He pulls away from her and grunts. "Alright. I will leave you to your own devices."

Trying to alleviate the stirring anger inside of him, she says, "I won't be long."

"Alright. I'll just cope with whatever Draven brings to my room tonight."

This time, she is livid. Standing up, she pushes Darius off the bed and onto the carpeted floor. Sejuani straddles his waist while gripping his hard pride in one hand, causing him to hiss in between his teeth. Tortuously slow, she runs her hand up and down his prized possession. She leans towards him and sends shivers down his spine as she whispers, "If you do that, I'll make sure this," she grips at him tightly but doesn't increase her speed, "... will shatter of frostbite. That or I'll have Bristle bite it off."

He could no longer think of his previous statement as she rides him harder than she rides the boar.

* * *

To Darius' dismay, Sejuani was gone for a month.

A month without listening to her biting remarks and her brusque bedroom voice, a month without seeing her nonchalant face but knowing that she would just want to rip off his armor and relish the feeling of their skin bare against one another and a month of abstinence on his part due to her threat a month prior, was just pure torture.

"What took you?" He growls into her ear as he relentlessly thrusts into her. She will not be sleeping tonight; oh no, he prepared for her return.

"Ashe..." she gasps as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside her. The bundle of nerves send a tingle at the back of her head and the delectable pleasure makes her writhe against him. In between moans, she manages, "She... found... our... camp..."

Growling, he buries himself in her neck, biting and sucking and licking at the same spot of skin until it leaves a bruise. He moves to another patch and repeats the action.

Sejuani reaches her climax a little more than a few times and Darius has reached his even more times thanks to the potion that a brewing master gave to him. He prime is past, but he can still make sure that he passes the message that he isn't pleased with her extended leave.

Gasping, she manages, "You missed me didn't you?"

With a grunt, he throws the blanket over their bare bodies and pulls her close to him. Despite the proximity of their lower bodies, he does not feel the arousal of her sopping heat. Darius kisses her forehead apologetically. Love does indeed mean never having to say that you are sorry and actions speak louder than words.

"Is your tribe safe now?" The proud Hand of Noxus will not admit but he would feel bad if he took away all of her stamina and vigor and her tribe is still in danger of discovery.

She nods into his chest before falling into sleep, leaving Darius to his thoughts.

If only The Winter's Claw will be safe from discovery then Sejuani would be free to live in the dorms for an extended period of time. He would have more time with her and less time to worry about what he would do when they part. Noxian meetings only take a few hours simply because most of Noxians are those who follow orders and very few hold the rein to command.

He can see her there, issuing commands and sharing the Noxian seat of command. She would fit perfectly and they would not need to separate. He shakes his head to clear those thoughts. He would not take away what she deserves.

If only both Ashe and Lissandra were out of the picture, his Albino lady wouldn't have to leave so often.

With a contented sigh, Darius snuggles into her arm and falls into a deep sleep.

* * *

Swain taps his fingers on the wooden desk as the assembly continues on, a sure fire sign that he has seen all the weak points and loopholes of the strategy the current representative is presenting and he's bored.

Darius mirrors his superior's attitude. A hand is on his cheek while he does not try to suppress a yawn. Draven sits across him and has a grin that's more than infuriating. As much as the Hand of Noxus cares for his brother, he wishes that the latter would cease the infuriating facial expressions. The glint in Draven's eyes seem to be more prominent today and no doubt, the Glorious Executioner has something up his sleeve.

At the moment, he wants nothing more than to be back in his room in the Institute of War's dorm. Sejuani might still be asleep and he can see her, in his mind's eye, curled up into the blankets of his bed.

Once the representative is finished with his boring talk, the usual routines took place: reporting of Noxus' military status, such as the number of soldiers trained everyday and the new leaders appointed to the trainees, the reinforcing of suggested battle strategies and all the like. Once it's over, Draven raises his hand, a notion that surprises the occupants of the room.

"I would like to have a little chat with the Grand General and my brother," as an afterthought, he adds, "in private."

One by one, the other representatives and officers of importance left the room and Draven exhaled loudly. He'd never been fond of such formal occasions and as such, his sense of all formalities are dropped as well.

"Is is something so important that it has to be just the two of us?" Swain asks wearily. Most of the times it's just a senseless concern about how his theatrics are dramatically dampened by the lack of color or the lack of audience or anything along those lines. It could be different this time since there's the presence of privacy. On the other hand, Swain has long ago stopped hoping that Draven will cease this ridiculous actions.

"It concerns no one else but my brother, Darius," he replies as he stares off into the distance. "I remember to have seen you with a certain-," he pauses dramatically, "A certain snow-haired woman, in the Institute's dorms late at night."

At those words, the Hand of Noxus turns pale. He doesn't know whether or not he's going to be relieved that his brother saw his meetings with Sejuani. For now, he's relieved that his brother chose to divulge it only to their superior.

Swain's grating voice fills his ears, "Is that so?" His tone seems to be hiding something more, like a parent silently reprimanding an unruly child. "To be spied with the Winter's Wrath is an impressive feat, Darius."

The implications of his actions and that Swain and his brother know about it, makes him clench a fist under the table. It fills him with dread and he wonders if they will do or say anything in objection to his involvement with the Freljord's tribe leader. It's highly likely that they will find the arrangement to be inconvenient and it makes him tense up all the more.

"There is no need to question you," Swain says with finality in his tone. "You are given permission to pursue your... _advances_ with Sejuani of the Freljord. So far it hasn't hindered your duties to the Noxian military."

With nothing else to say, but a curt bow and a brief word of gratitude, Darius starts back to the Institute of war.

* * *

They are sitting on the bed of his room, with clothes on and without any intentions of removing them anytime soon.

His fingers are tightly pressed onto hers, reveling in the texture of her pale white hands. She's resting her head on his shoulder and exhaling deeply every now and then. There's a relief that cannot be spoken of since Darius arrived in his room.

She woke up to gentle rapping on the door and a bone-crushing hug from the Hand of Noxus himself. He relayed to her about their meeting and his knees just give way and he falls into her arms, an action that didn't seem to be of his persona.

"General Swain didn't seem to be someone who won't see this as insubordination," he mutters, lowly, but loud enough for only her to hear.

She chuckles, coarse and soft, but he loves hearing it anyway. It reminds him of the moments where she's newly awakened and the morning sun is illuminating her bare shoulder. "Maybe he thinks that it's more convenient for Noxus to have Freljord as a support for its endeavors against Demacia."

At that statement, he is quick to retort, "I have never known him to be such a person. Partnerships are indeed important, but the Grand General is not one who will depend on it completely."

Under normal circumstances, Sejuani would be offended at the careless brushing off he employed on her statement, but she knows him well enough to not feel any resentment towards his misplaced words. For Noxus, strength is everything and the reason why Jericho Swain arose among all those powerful individuals is because he proved himself to be superior in terms of strength. Darius allows himself to be directed by the cripple because of that sole reason and she understands. He may not explain it, but she understands.

"I don't know why either," she says finally. "But I don't care as long as I share my time with you."

He couldn't agree more and verbalizes it with a low hum. Darius kisses the crown of her head and says, "Stay with me for a while..."

She does not like the span of time he has imposed, but nods nonetheless. No matter how much she wants him to stay, she has decided that she will not hold him back from what needs his attention. At the end of the day, he'll end up in her arms and in her-in more ways than one-anyway. Sejuani curls into his warmth, like a fire in the middle of a winter's blizzard. Absently, her fingers trace on the many scars of his arm.

There are times when she fears for him, especially when she's away and keeping her tribe from discovery. Age is clear on the lines rapidly appearing on his face and his battles only make it more apparent. Bristle would accompany her on many a sleepless night when she would think of whether or not her lover was safe. Once or twice, Udyr pointed out that her heart and spirit were 'disturbed' and 'detached'. He never said, but he must know about her affairs with the Noxian general.

Anything that concerns Darius awakens a foreign fear in her and while she doesn't like it, she can't deny that it feels refreshing.

In a low tone, Sejuani replies, "I'm here... I'll always be here..."

And Darius squeezes her hand, telling her unspoken words and falling in love with her all over again.

At the back of his head, he can remember Swain's words to him.

He can't believe that a crippled old man could know so much.

* * *

His grip on his axe tightens as his Summoner yells at him to continue with his onslaught on the purple minions, but he doesn't budge from his turret's side.

It's one of those deciding matches, where neither sides can afford to lose. Darius managed to obey his Summoner's orders thus far, but now his limbs refuse to move. He had only fought her in the Fields of Justice once and that was when they first met. Not a lot of Summoners found her to be worthy of use and though she resents that, he finds the lack of their meetings in Summoner's Rift a blessing.

Bristle groans at him with recognition while its rider avoids his eyes. The minions suffer the swings of her flail and her ruthless charges.

Darius takes a few steps towards her; dispelling the worry in his Summoner's voice. He swings his arm, crushing an unfortunate minion's head with the blade of his axe. Sejuani raises her head apprehensively, but the look disappears as soon as he diminishes the minion horde and her Summoner orders her to stay there until the jungler arrives.

His Summoner commands him to draw back to his turret as Jax, the enemy jungler, is last seen fleeing from the mid lane and probably heading to the top lane. But the Hand of Noxus does not listen. All he knows is that he needs to touch her. Even a slight touch on her hand would suffice for him. He just needs to let her know that he isn't fighting her willingly.

It doesn't matter if she knows his intentions; he just wants to make that point clear. Darius doesn't care if a lot of people are watching. Sejuani is his and nothing alive can keep him from her.

Jax jumps from the bush and Darius' Summoner is quick to make him flash back towards the turret: a waste, but he's past caring. Now that his minions are depleted and the opposing team has a fresh one to join with the weakened wave, his Summoner is more than eager to put the Champion in place. He grips his axe and feels his mind being invaded by the Summoner's prying thoughts. Soon he can no longer assume control of his entire body. The Summoner has fully gained control of his body.

And it makes him distressed as he leaves the safety of his turret and starts for Jax. The commands overwhelm him and his body is quick to obey. In a flash, Jax is sent retreating to the bush while she stands there, vulnerable and immobile. Bristle is groaning at her intently; telling her in its own language to run because they're not in the Institute of War's dorms anymore.

Here on the Rift, he's her enemy.

The Winter's Wrath doesn't seem to mind that he's delivering multiple blows to her and that she has health potions to spare. With one last swing of his blade, the boar squeals and falls atop its rider. A female voice announces the death of Sejuani throughout the entire rift and Darius is immediately prompted to return to their platform.

At the end of the match, his Summoner sends him glares and glances of disappointment, but the Noxian general is hardly disturbed by the possibility of being seldom selected for matches. He strides over to the opposing team who loses despite their best efforts to keep the Hand of Noxus at bay. Clearing his throat, he gathers the attention of all of the Champions of the purple team.

"It was a good fight," he says, gathering all the pride he could put into his tone. "I look forward to seeing you again on the Rift," he turns to the sole Albino lady of the team and extends a gloved hand, "Winter's Wrath."

Bristle snorts and Sejuani gently tugs at its fur to keep it silent. "Likewise," she returns the greeting, "Hand of Noxus..."

It's like the first time they've met, but she cannot help but note the sullen expression in his eyes.

* * *

"That was quite disappointing of you, Darius."

He sits on one of the infamous marble chairs owned by Emilia Le Blanc in her private quarters. Sitting across him is the Grand General, clothed in his usual green robes and his raven perched on the windowsill. The owner of the room is searching for a book on the ceiling-high bookshelf; tapping an unconscious finger on her chin.

"Your performance on that battle was a generous revelation of your apparent _soft spot_," Swain continues as he sits motionlessly on his chair.

Having nothing else to say, the Hand of Noxus merely explains, "I was taken by surprise; it will not happen again."

"And it should not," Le Blanc interjects and Darius fights back a snarl. He never found the enigmatic woman to be amiable. "Surely all that crawling you did around the Noxian slums to survive tells you that nothing is without attached strings?"

This time, he does not hide his anger. "You will not touch her," he growls lowly and menacingly to both Swain and Le Blanc. They could name him a traitor to the sovereignty of the Grand General, strip him of his titles and banish him from the city-state for all time, but he will not stand if anyone-even Swain himself-would touch a single strand of her beautiful white hair.

The Deceiver chuckles as she shuts a book briefly caught her. "You will be the judge of that, Hand of Noxus..."

"We do not tolerate weakness," Swain reminds him. "Even if you're the one who did the most to purge that weakness."

Darius carves his superior's words into his heart and when he reunites with Sejuani in his room, he does not touch her. He contents himself with lying down beside her with a common blanket keeping them warm. He kisses her apologetically: for the match they had and the possible matches they might have in the future.

"Stop blaming yourself," she mumbles strongly onto his shoulder. The scent of snow and soap emanate from the crown of her head and he finds himself sniffing it heartily. "We're Champions and there's nothing we can do about being pitted against each other."

He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks the better of it. He just grunts softly before falling asleep with the scent of snow in his memory

* * *

To say that Darius prepared for her return, is an understatement.

He didn't prepare a secluded place for them to have dinner under the canopy of the stars. He didn't consult his brother about clothes and about how they would affect his appearance or his visibility during the evening. He didn't try a myriad of brews offered in Runeterra just to make sure that the drinks would suit her taste. He didn't embarrass himself by going to a flower shop to buy some ranunculus because they describe how radiant she is. He didn't spend gold and effort for her return.

It didn't seem to him like he did anything at all.

And all of that just flew out the window as soon as he heard that Sejuani is in the infirmary of the Institute of War.

"She defended our tribe from the Frost Archer and her comrade, the Princess Lissandra," Udyr explains to him when he finally manages to get there. If the Hand of Noxus wasn't so vexed, he would wonder why the Spirit Walker divulged such crucial information to him. "As she has ordered, we transported her here as we relocate the tribe and proceed as she instructed us to," he continues.

"I will take care of her." The claim does not light any interest in Udyr's eyes, but he does betray a small hint of aggression and anxiety. Nonetheless, he relents.

"Very well then. I will take Bristle back to the camp if only to confuse our enemies," he informs the Noxian before leaving.

With that, Darius enters the white room. On the bed is Sejuani who looks quite displeased with being confined on a bed. He does not remember being in her presence until she snidely says, "You look like you've seen a ghost..."

"That's not something to be jesting about," he says strongly. His fists tense and relax until he starts breathing normally. "You're hurt," he starts lamely because no one warned him about the ringing in his ears and the sharp pang in his chest when he thinks about how he could have lost her.

"Battle scars are nothing to be ashamed of."

"But you could have died."

"No. I wouldn't have died," she rebukes him silently.

"I am not foolish enough to know what battle brings, Sejuani." Her eyes harden at the sound of her name sharply being released from his throat.

She stares at him, long and thoughtfully. Licking her lips, she repeats, "I wouldn't have died." And he snarls.

"The mere thought of you doesn't make death and option, Darius."

The Winter's Wrath utter his name softly and lovingly; it is foreign to him. But it is a welcome change.

It's frightening how this woman could have been lost to him forever and suddenly she's so deliciously close to him. If he hesitated for another moment, he's afraid that Ashe's icy arrows would freeze her heart from him. She's just so strong, and so lovely, and so fragile, and so tough, and so precious, and so fearless all at the same time that he's completely anguished at the mere thought of losing her.

Darius wraps his arms around her; frightened that Sejuani suddenly feels so small in his embrace. Her hair smells like ice and blood and it heightens his anxiety even more. At the moment, there is but one thought clouding his mind.

_They will pay for this..._

* * *

Ashe runs faster than her own arrows. The thick growth of vegetation hinders her from jumping and it makes the chase all the more difficult for her. She may be a huntress, but she isn't that fast. Though she has an obvious advantage over her pursuer in terms of speed, the trail of blood left in her wake makes it difficult for her to make him lose track of her.

The undergrowth makes her stumble and fall to her face. Spitting out the soil gathered in her mouth, the Avarosan Queen continues her fleeing, but the booming footsteps of her pursuer strikes fear into her heart. She hears the rustling of grass coming a few leagues in front of her and she cannot decide if she will be relieved or cautious.

From behind her, Darius is slowly closing the space between them. An ever-present frown is on his face and his axe is glistening with her blood. The wound to her side shoots pain to her spine as she fits an arrow into her bow. Wincing, she asks him if only to stall him and find out if the other person is a friend or a foe, "What do you want from me, Noxian?"

He doesn't reply. At an extent, he understands the power granted unto Tryndamere by his rage and he relishes at the feeling of it, coating his fingertips. She releases the arrow and it helplessly falls to the ground after meeting with his axe.

Panicked, Ashe repeats the process and asks the same question as she strains her ear to find that the footsteps are approaching them quickly. "Answer me and your death will be swift," she tells him and he scoffs.

"The likes of you can't grant me a swift death," he informs her.

The footsteps increase in speed, she notes as sweat trickles down her temple. "We'll see, won't we?" She challenges him and dares to hope that an ally is marching against the undergrowth. Another arrow is released and yet again deflected by his axe. The footsteps grow louder and she turns to see a shock of white peeking from the luscious green.

Gritting her teeth, Ashe realizes that no help will come to her. Before her is the fabled Hand of Noxus who separates head from host in one clean swipe and behind her is the warmonger otherwise known as Sejuani. She readies another arrow and prepares to release with her aim at his forehead. The last thing the Avarosan Queen remembers is something hard and cold hitting the back of her head near her nape before she collapses to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

"You admit to the crime of attacking, Ashe, The Frost Archer?" A high councilor asks Sejuani as she stands on the platform in the middle of an amphitheater consisting of Summoners of all ranks and standings. "You admit to attacking a fellow-Champion within the confines of the Institute of War and of the Summoners' jurisdiction?"

She nods silently. Ashe was found by one of the staffs of the Institute who was doing evening rounds. When she was examined, the bola that undoubtedly belonged to the leader of the Winter's Claw came out as the cause of her unconsciousness. Not much needs to be investigated upon because the accused has already confessed the crime.

"We wish to know your motive behind the attack," another Summoner speaks. "You are aware that attacking a fellow-Champion within the Institute of War is a punishable crime and yet you did it anyway."

"It was to teach her a lesson," she replies. "She attacked and I was forced to stay in bed for a few days. I simply wanted to return the favor."

An old Summoner chuckles and points out, "You could have returned the favor to her when you rallied your tribe at full strength and destroyed hers. Instead you resorted to such petty methods and it brought you to this unfavorable circumstance."

With a grunt, Sejuani replies, "My actions are mine. You do not need to concern yourself over it and gray your hairs even more." This slightly infuriates the Summoner and the hall is silent. Her punishment comes next and she shows them that she does not care about it. Her inner perplexity is not betrayed anywhere and she silently commends herself for it.

Darius is nowhere to be found. She wonders grimly if Swain somehow knew that it was his subordinate that first attacked Ashe and silently relocated the Hand of Noxus. From the very beginning, she has planned to take the blame. It really is her who sent the Frost Archer into a state of unconsciousness. But the motives she presented to the Summoners and the motives she bore then are two different things. Her real motive was simple; she saw the Avarosan tribe leader point an arrow at her lover and she merely took action against it.

Everything else became clear when he explained himself, but she knew, somewhere within her, that the blame must be hers.

"There is one last thing," another Summoner raises his hand. "A gash was found at her side. It was a deep diagonal cut about three inches deep and five inches in length. Was it your doing?"

"Yes," she answers without hesitation. "To be honest, I didn't know that my bola could do that. Perhaps if the other Summoners knew that my weapon is just as good as any other blade then they will use me more." A proud smirk crosses her face, but no one else in the room finds her statement to be amusing. Ashe is an especially loved Champion and no matter what evidence Sejuani forges to prove her innocence, she will lose the fight.

"At this rate no one will be able to use you for a while, Sejuani, the Winter's Wrath," the senior Summoner starts. "You are hereby confined to the Institute of War and are prohibited from participating in any of the matches. Should you try to leave the Institute of War then your privilege to participate in the Fields of Justice will be considered null and void. You will not be allowed to converse with any of your allied Champions and all aforementioned punishments will last until the Frost Archer, Ashe has awakened."

"What if she never wakes up?" Sejuani challenges with narrowed eyes.

The Summoner smirks, "Then we will think of letting you fall under the same fate. For now, the session is adjourned."

* * *

Darius wakes up to his room in Noxus.

The initial registered thought in him is panic. He remembers last talking to Sejuani about her session with the Summoners who wish to know what happened to the Frost Archer and afterwards he returned to his room to get his axe before everything went black.

"Oh good, you're finally awake."

He starts and sees his brother feasting on some green grapes. Without so much as a second thought, he asks, "Why am I here?"

"The old man's orders," Draven replies simply before standing up. "I'm supposed to knock you out if you wake up, but Draven is liking these grapes." He pops another one in his mouth and chews loudly, making his older brother grimace.

The Hand of Noxus jumps off his bed and grabs his armor. "I need to return to the Institute of War," he says, more to himself than to the other occupant of the room.

"I didn't know you were such an idiot," Draven mutters. "The old man ordered you to stay here. Besides, it's too late for you to go there. Your girlfriend has confessed to the crime."

The word 'girlfriend' doesn't suit Sejuani's significance in his life. It sounds rather... shallow. "But it isn't solely her fault," he growls.

"Look, the old man knows you're going to try and clear it up to those Summoners." The Glorious Executioner pops another grape into his mouth and chews. "That's why you're here and not there."

Stopping, Darius thinks of what he' going to do. If he leaves he will be called a traitor and a lot of low-life assassins will battle for the honor of killing Swain's right hand man. They will certainly not succeed, but he will have to constantly live on the run. As for his Albino woman, what can he do for her?

"Tell Grand General Swain that I spit on his regime," he says darkly.

Smirking, Draven nods and says, "Will do, ex-Hand of Noxus..."

* * *

They left in the dead of night, through the window and with tattered cloaks covering their heads from view.

He didn't think it through when he asked her to run with him, to a place where people won't reach them. And though it's impossible to completely run away from people, she accepts his offer and they run off.

There was a price on his head by midday and at dawn she will soon be dragged back into her little room and locked for who knows how long.

The pair shuffle into an inn. He throws his last bag of gold for a room, a bottle of wine and the silence of everyone who's there. She glares at the receptionist for a more effective emphasis and they're given a large room at the uppermost floor where no one else is staying. The bottle of wine sits innocently on an ice bucket. But the details of the room is soon lost on them.

Darius grabs her by the shoulder and pins her to the wall. His lips find hers eagerly and his fingers undo the knot of her cloak. Sejuani does the same and without the usual bulk of his armor, undressing him is an easier task.

There's a secret spot on her neck, close to the collarbone that makes her moan loudly. It spurs him on and he wraps her thighs around his waist and leads her to the bed. Clothes dissolve at the command of their frenzied hands. They know what will come next, but there's only each other at the moment.

Kisses litter all over her body; the Hand of Noxus prides himself at making her release a shudder at the wake of every kiss. She's radiant, like a ranunculus and even more so when she's bare and without clothes. Under him, she is no longer the proud warrior that she imposes herself to be in the Fields of Justice. His lips trail down from her neck to her chest.

The swell of her breasts entices him and he wastes nothing to feast on the subtle sweetness of the soft skin. She holds his head to her chest as he bites, nips, licks and sucks. When he starts at the underside, she bucks her hips towards him and the action is restrained by his palms pressing against her hips. The Winter's Wrath trembles in his touch and a sinful heat gathers at the pool of her belly. A few more timely placed nips and she is sent swirling down to the throes of pleasure.

Eager to return the favor, Sejuani reverses their positions and knocks the air out of Darius. Gently, she presses her lips on his before her eyes trail down to the pride he boasts in the confines of their nightly activities. One hand slowly but surely pumps at his prized possession as her tongue flicks to tease the tip. At this, the Hand of Noxus releases a low groan. She has done this to him many times before but the remarkable skill she displays make it always seem like the first time.

But impatience makes him sit up and push her back onto the bed.

"No more teasing," he growls into her ear, biting on her earlobe. And with one fluid motion, he thrusts into her.

The moment is overwhelming and just divine. He fills her completely and leaves no space for her to gain leverage. This is how the Hand of Noxus is, ruthless, quick and precise.

Slowly and bidding his time, he draws out, leaving only the tip in contact with her slick entrance. Her back arches when he slams back forcefully into her moist and hot passage. He repeats the process with the same speed that makes her whine and grab at his broad shoulders.

They know what's coming, but all that matter is each other and the moment that they are sharing.

"Stop procrastinating," she whines. A high pitched plea that is pure music to his ears.

Happy to oblige, Darius grabs her hips and enters her at full force. This time, his speed is blinding; it sends white dots into her closed lids. Loving him is simple; all she ever needed to do was be perceptive and understanding. When he makes love, it's a shy event that is reserved only for the likes of her. Loving her is just as simple: all he ever needed to do was wait for her and indulge himself when she's back. When she makes love, it's a rough thing that he has always found to be delectable.

He falls on her body, panting as he releases everything he has into her. She pulls his head and kisses him fervently.

They know what's coming and it's coming fast.

"I planned this," he admits abashedly. "But the Frost Archer happened to hurt you..."

Chuckling, Sejuani stares at the glasses of wine on the table. "It doesn't sound like you," she teases him as she rises from the bed and wraps a blanket around her naked body, leaving Darius to be content with the bed clothes.

"Death makes a man stronger," he replies. "You should know that..."

Chuckling, she grabs the glass and swirls the liquid inside.

"I would not have died," she repeats.

"But I will be come dawn," he says as he wraps his arms around her waist from behind.

"You don't need to remind me."

They are silent and Darius grabs the other glass.

"What would you do if I died?" He asked. Curiosity has never been an enemy he could defeat; all the more with this Albino woman who shares his bed.

"You don't need to ask," she mutters.

Facing her, Darius brushes back her shock of white hair. "Better lose you to my heart than to other people," he mutters as she leans towards his hand. A sly look passes her face as she raises her glass. "Likewise, Hand of Noxus."

Their glasses clink silently and they drink the wine. She falls towards him and he catches her with trembling hands. "We should go to sleep. Tomorrow, we move to somewhere else," he tells her as he kisses her temple.

Sejuani hums in affirmation as she sighs into his chest. "We'll be able to do whatever we want to... You would probably look like an idiot while holding your child..." she chuckles.

Inwardly he winces at the thought of children. Draven was unbearable, but perhaps if the child had hair as white as snow, he could smile and be gentler. "I would like to have a child..."

They lie down on the bed, with his arm draped over her small frame. She's quite slender without the armor and her boar.

"I love you..." she mutters; her eyes start to close and he kisses her lips, probably for the last time.

"I love you..." he replies, unsure but sincere. He tries to say something more, but his strength that he is proud of is rapidly ebbing off.

Their hearts beat faintly until it is no more.

The only thing alive in the room is the candle and the ramunculus he planned on giving her.

* * *

**I don't know what I did here...**

**This pairing is just so unconventional and basically non-existent that I didn't know what to do... TT_TT**

**I tried to keep them in character and make my fics a lot less redundant, unlike my KataRen fic... KEYWORD: tried... XD**

**This isn't the first time that I tried to write a scene with sexual content; it's just my first time posting one in a website...**

**The song where this fic was based from kinda has a yandere message and I tried to incorporate it here... KEYWORD: tried... XD**

**For the record, I don't use Darius, but I do use Sejuani.**

**So yeah I apologize if it's so downright terrible... XD**

**But hey, leaving a REVIEW is free and it could possibly help me improve as I tread on this path...**

**So please do not hesitate to leave one and feel free to convey your deepest darkest thoughts regarding the fic as it is greatly appreciated... =D**

**Anyway, thanks for reading this fic~!**

**See you in between pages again! =D**

**chquine_harvinellisse**


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